


only a motion away

by brightblue



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Gen, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightblue/pseuds/brightblue
Summary: When Mike is injured during a game, Jackie Lawson makes the trip to visit him in the hospital. But she's not the only family he has waiting. It's time for Jackie to meet Ginny. And Janet.





	only a motion away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_in_Red](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_in_Red/gifts).



> Based on the prompt: "Something where Jackie Lawson and Janet Baker meet for some reason, either because of a wedding or baby or something."
> 
> Title is taken from the super on the nose song title "Mother and Child Reunion" by Paul Simon because that's where we're at.

“Hey, Jackie, isn’t that your boy?”

Jackie Lawson looks up from the tips she’s counting out on the scratched mahogany of the bar. Misty, her young co-bartender, snaps her gum and directs a chipped purple nail up at the one TV wedged above the bar. _Yes, Misty,_ she assumes she’ll say in a rush of annoyance, knowing the Padres are in town to play the Giants, _for the last time, yes, Mike’s a catcher and, yes, he’s single as far as I know but I doubt he’s interested in a trainwreck like you._

But she doesn’t say that because her heart stops before her brain can truly register what’s happening— her son, being carted off the field on a stretcher, face grimacing in pain, a sea of navy blue and grey teammates swarming him with looks of shock and concern.

“Yes, that’s my boy,” she whispers.

Misty frowns. She fluffs her platinum blonde bangs. “Yikes. Well, if you need to go or whatever, I can cover the rest of your shift. It’s dead today anyway. Just let me grab a cig break first.”

Jackie hasn’t seen Mike in at least a year. Hasn’t talked to him in weeks and even that was just perfunctory small talk, how’s-it-going-good-okay conversation. But that doesn’t matter. And he’s in San Francisco. She can be there in less than two hours if traffic is on her side.

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Misty.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jackie doesn’t stop to think about what she’s doing until just before she reaches the highway on-ramp. She pulls her beat-up Subaru onto the shoulder, takes a deep breath, then takes out her phone. Maybe this is a bad idea. She’s never exactly gone running to Mike before. He’s never really asked her to come for him, not when he broke his arm at recess or when he was cut from his first team or when his marriage fell apart. Jackie is better at running away from things, anyway. Maybe putting up a fight if needed. But comfort? Not her area.

Maybe she should just turn around. Misty always fucks up the register anyway. Probably she’ll get screwed out of her tips from her shift. Fridays always end up their busiest night, too. All the tours that come up from the city for the weekend and want to get started early before hitting the wineries the next day.

But if she doesn’t go, this is yet another tally in the ledger against her. Jackie and her shitty parenting choices. Mike would never _ask_ her to come. Honestly he wouldn’t expect it. And, yeah, isn’t that awful enough? Her son was just on national TV, being carried off in a stretcher? What kind of mother wouldn’t show up?

She pulls out her phone and calls Mike, still first on her speed-dial. It goes straight to his voicemail, which is full.

She sends a text:

_Mikey, saw what happened on TV. Worried sick. Driving down now. B there in a few hours. Let me know where u r. Luv u 2 pieces. Xoxo MOM_

Jackie puts the car into gear and merges onto the ramp.

 

* * *

 

 

Just as she’s crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, she gets a text reply:

_This is Mike’s friend Ginny. He’s at Mission Hospital getting tests done. No room assigned yet. We’re in the 4th floor waiting room. Will update._

Ginny. As in Ginny Baker? Interesting. Jackie’s seen her face plastered on just about every magazine and advertisement lately. Pretty girl. Most of the Padres coverage has turned to her too, at least when Jackie remembers to watch.

She’d asked Mike about Ginny Baker once, back when she first joined the team, and he was complimentary but vague. Mike doesn’t usually tell her much about his personal life anyway. Boring things, things like trips to the zoo with the Sanders family, make up the bulk of his anecdotes; professionally, he speaks in generalities about the team and his TV spots and dealerships and when she’ll get another check from him. Jackie gets the sense that he holds a lot back from her, no matter how much she pushes, though she doesn’t understand why. And to think, there was a time when she counted Mike as her best friend. Silly her to think that kind of bond would last forever.

Jackie feels a sudden wash of anxiety. She eases up on the accelerator but keeps driving.

 

* * *

 

When Jackie finds the waiting room, she expects more fanfare. She’s reapplied lipstick and everything, expecting to find the press and teammates and a crowd holding vigil. Isn’t her son a famous ballplayer after all?

Instead, she finds a mostly empty waiting room. As her heels click on the linoleum floor, heads turn to regard her but no one really reacts. No microphones or flashbulbs greet her. She can’t tell if she’s relieved or disappointed. She spots Ginny Baker quickly, her face familiar but looking far more tired and worried than any red carpet snap she’s seen. And if she hadn’t recognized Ginny’s face, well, her Padres uniform certainly would stand out.

“Mrs. Lawson?” The young woman stands, her smile a little shaky, but extends a firm hand. “Glad you could make it. I’m Ginny. Ginny Baker.”

Jackie can’t help but smile at the slightly awkward greeting from the superstar. “Of course you are. Jackie Lawson. Call me Jackie, please!”

Ginny gives her an eager nod back. “Nice to meet you. Mike talks about you a lot.”

Sliding herself into a chair, Jackie’s jaw goes tight at the obvious lie. “How is he?”

Ginny’s face falters; she shares a look with the woman seated next to her. The older woman, who looks far more composed than the young ballplayer, puts an arm around Ginny and gives her a squeeze.

“Hanging in there. They have him on pain meds now while they are running some tests,” the woman says, a slight Southern lilt to her voice. “I’m Janet Baker, by the way. Ginny’s mom.”

“Oh. Hi. Nice to meet you,” Jackie says. She looks between the two women for a second, clocking their slight resemblance, but still confused.

“Mom’s in town for the series,” Ginny says as explanation. Her shoulders droop, a little sheepish, though pride shines through. She points out to Jackie a few other members of the Padres front office scattered about the waiting room, all absorbed on various devices or chatting quietly. Truly, Ginny and Janet are the only two who look like they belong here, waiting.

“Where’s the rest of the team?”

Ginny’s cheeks pink up. “Uh, Skip told them to hold off for a bit until Mike gets settled. I started yesterday so they let me come over in the ambulance with him.”

Jackie nods, studying the young woman closely. She seems awfully worried. She keeps wringing her hands together and casting nervous looks at the doors barring access to the Orthopedic Unit. And leaving mid-game? She knows enough to know that’s not protocol.

“Lawson family?” A nurse sneaks up on their group. She didn’t arrive by way of the big electronic doors, throwing them all off a bit. But Ginny jumps out of her seat like a shot anyway. The men in suits circle closer. Jackie folds her arms across her chest, tentatively rising to her feet.

“Yes, we’re waiting!” Ginny blurts out. Janet puts a gentle hand on her back.

The nurse eyes the group skeptically. “He’s done with his tests for now and set up in a room for the night. Room 454. Let’s keep the excitement to a minimum, please. Mr. Lawson must approve all visitors.” She gives the men in suits a pointed look. “I can take one of you back with me now.”

Ginny is on the nurse’s heels before the sound of Janet clearing her throat stops her in her tracks. She pulls back, embarrassed, realizing her presumption. “Oh, sorry, Jackie, you can go ahead…”

Feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on her, Jackie pastes on a smile. “No, sweetie, go ahead. He doesn’t even know I’m here. I can wait.”

“Thank you,” Ginny says with a sigh of relief. Her steps seem lighter as she trails the nurse onto the unit, leaving Jackie and Janet standing awkwardly in her wake. The men in suits go back to their devices.

Sitting back down, Jackie begins to fidget with her purse. She could really use a cigarette right now but Janet seems like the type to judge her for that. Not that Jackie cares what a stranger thinks. She never has. But something about this whole situation has her feeling remarkably off-kilter and self-conscious, which makes her feel even worse because this is her _son_ and these are strangers. But Mike has always kept her so separate from his Padres life. Never quite forgiven her for what she did all those years ago. Never understanding that she did all that to keep clothes on their backs and food on their table. She tried to rise above shitty, double crossing men, wanted better for them both, but sometimes it just doesn't pan out. Well, anyway, look at him now.

Janet flips through an ancient issue of _US Weekly_ , something about a torrid affair, but her eyes keep lifting to regard Jackie. Crossing her leg, Jackie gives her hair a toss and prepares to meet the woman’s appraising gaze head on.

“It’s nice of you to take time out of your vacation to wait here.” Her overture sounds far too saccharine even to her own ears; it jingles in the air for a long moment.

Janet’s face twists into something that makes Jackie feel very small. “Mike is like family to Ginny. Which therefore makes him family to me.”

Nodding perhaps a few too many times, Jackie swallows hard. She tracks back over her conversations with Mike, few and far between that they are, and really has no indication about this development in his life. “Sorry,” Jackie finds herself apologizing almost against her will, “Mike doesn’t share a lot with me…”

Janet’s mask of judgement seems to crack a bit at that. “I’ve been there with Ginny before as well.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I thought we were getting better.” Jackie fiddles with the necklace resting in her cleavage. She wishes she would’ve taken the time to change out of her work clothes; showing off her tits always makes for better tips. She laughs uncomfortably. “I didn’t even know he and Ginny were together…”

Janet’s brown eyes flash. She sits up very tall, snapping her magazine closed. It’s then Jackie notices Ginny’s face in the corner under a _Baker’s New Beau!_ headline.

“My daughter is one of the most recognizable women on the planet right now, Jackie. She can’t go for a coffee without it being photographed; every move she makes is up for public debate. She’s under enormous pressure to perform to nearly impossible standards.” Janet leans forward slightly, ice dripping from every syllable. “Could you imagine the scandal if she were to fall into bed with her much older, divorced, _womanizing_ team captain? Her _catcher_?”

Though Jackie feels the sting of Janet’s words, what she's implying about her son, she isn’t about to concede. “I can imagine the scandal, Janet, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.” Off Janet’s glare, Jackie holds up a hand of surrender. “Maybe it’s something I’m not supposed to know. I get it.”

It wouldn’t be the first time. Mike also failed to tell her about Rachel’s affair and their subsequent separation for months. He never quite got over her accidentally spilling the beans about their engagement. But how was she to know that the guy was a reporter?

“They are friends. Good friends. He is her mentor.” With a final glare, Janet goes back to her magazine.

Jackie mulls this over, a facet of her son’s life she knows nothing about. She mentally filters through their recent conversations and, now that she’s focusing on it, she can fill in some gaps, some mysterious outings and stories about “a friend” she half-listened to that may have been Ginny. Mike has seemed more settled lately, content, happier than he’d been in the last few years of his marriage to Rachel and certainly after his divorce. That was hard not to notice even in the little he shares with her. She wonders if that isn’t due to this new woman apparently more in his life than she ever could've known. A very young woman. A very young, rich, famous woman.

As if reading her mind, Janet looks up at her again. “A friend and mentor is what Ginny needs right now. Nothing more. I hope your son is man enough to realize that.”

Jackie bristles. “ _Excuse me_? Mike may not be perfect but he is a good man, better than any man I’ve ever met in my life. He would never—

“Fall in love and damn the consequences?” Janet interjects, her tone softer now.

Jackie snorts. “Mike’s had plenty of examples of the ways love can go horribly wrong, believe me.”

With a sigh, Janet drops her magazine in her lap. “Ginny, too, I’m afraid.”

“They’re really just friends?” Jackie can’t help the high note in her question, having never heard of her son, or any man really, having a woman who was just a friend. Not that it couldn’t happen, she supposes, just that Mike has such a gentle heart and has always fallen hard and fast for the women lucky enough to glimpse that side of him. It’s hard for her to imagine him finding such a strong connection with someone as beautiful as Ginny without it leading to more.

Janet makes a noise of agreement. “That’s the official statement at least.”

Warming to gossip, Jackie leans closer to Janet with a smirk. “And unofficially?”

“Jackie, your son and my daughter may be good at maintaining whatever boundary they’ve set for themselves, but the affection in their eyes when they’re together says something entirely different."

Jackie’s responding smile is genuine. Janet winks at her.

As if on cue, Janet’s phone dings a text alert and she glances down. “Ginny says we can come back and see Mike,” she says, before raising her voice volume a few ticks so the men lurking in the corridor can hear. “No suits yet, though!”

Jackie leads the way to Mike’s room after the desk nurse permits them access to the unit. Before they enter the room, though, Jackie turns to address Janet. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me. I can guess not a lot of it is flattering. But I understand the position Ginny is in and I respect that. And I’m trying to do better by Mike.”

Janet gives her a curt nod. “Sometimes that's the best we can do.”

 

* * *

 

A swell of emotion crests in Jackie’s chest when she sees her son (forever and always the shaggy-haired five year old with the wise eyes and mischievous smile) laid out in a hospital bed, tubes attached to his body, knee intensively immobilized on the bed.

“Oh, Mikey.”

“Mom. You came.” His voice hitches; his eyes, already a bit glazed over with the pain meds, get a little teary. For a moment, Jackie is frozen with guilt. Guilt for almost not coming; guilt for knowing she wouldn't have come had Mike not been close by; guilt for everything, really. Because when did her little boy become so much the big, bearded man in the bed? When did that happen?

“Of course, baby, I saw on the TV…” and then she’s blubbering, dabbing at her eyes to prevent her mascara from running, and hurrying to Mike’s side. When she grips his hand and collapses into an empty chair, she notices that Ginny has taken up vigil in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. The young woman offers Jackie an encouraging smile. Jackie avoids this concession, soothing the edges of the tape that holds an IV line in place. She remembers how much that can itch.

“What are the docs saying, Mikey?” Jackie blurts as she tries to compose herself. She doesn’t miss the dark look that crosses Ginny’s face, how the young woman seems to steel herself for the answer, as if they’ve had this discussion already. They probably have.

Mike lets out a long breath. He coughs. “It’ll take a few days for the medical think tank to come up with a final treatment plan but I think this is it, Ma. I’ve been playing on borrowed time and that time is up. I'm done.”

Jackie nods, not quite sure how to respond, so rubs a thumb across the apple of Mike’s cheek. Her boy. That earns her a gentle grin.

There's a moment of silence until a choking sob emerges from Ginny, an awkward noise that she tries to suppress. “ _Don’t_ say that, Lawson.”

Mike drops Jackie’s hand to turn his body as best he can toward Ginny. He picks up the pitcher's hand from where it fiddles with the flimsy hospital quilt on his bed to thread his fingers through hers. “C’mon, rook, be realistic.”

“I am! You don’t know anything yet. Surgery, rehab...you could come back next season better than ever.” Ginny wrests her hand from Mike’s grip and wipes her face with it, clearly trying to rein in her emotions.

“Sure, but then what about my _other_ knee?”

Ginny just grunts at him.

Mike sighs. He watches the young woman avoid his gaze; she adjusts her cap lower over her eyes, dusts dirt off her uniform. He waits for her to look at him again. In that brief moment, Jackie loses a breath over the softness in his countenance. Mike loves Ginny. It’s that clear.

“Ginny.” His voice is so gentle Jackie can barely make out the syllables. Ginny does, though, and the tears she’s held at bay spill over onto her cheeks. “It’s okay. It’s time for the next thing, right?”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Ginny nods. She swipes at the moisture on her face like it betrayed her. “Yeah. The next thing.”

“There she is.” Mike smiles and it lights up his whole face. Jackie catches Janet’s eye, who just gives her a knowing look.

“Stop.” Ginny chuckles and wipes her nose on her sleeve. “I hate that you’re so calm right now.”

“I know, right? I’m a model patient. Unlike someone else in this room.”

Ginny narrows her eyes at him. “And you would know that how? ‘Cause if I recall correctly, when I was in the hospital last year, you were off somewhere with your head up your ass.”

“ _Ginny_!” Janet scolds.

“Sounds about right…”  Jackie can’t help but pile on, ignoring Mike’s scowl.

“It’s true! So don’t even pretend you know what it’s like to be sitting where I’m sitting right now.” Ginny’s words cut the air sharply, her anger running quick and hot. But she’s holding back, Jackie can tell that much, can sense what words aren’t being said.

Mike looks down at his hands. “Yeah. Well. It’s true I wasn’t strong enough to make it that far.”

“Mike…” Ginny exhales, her gaze finding his. Jackie has to look down, feeling as if she’s eavesdropping on something she shouldn’t hear even though words aren’t being said. She notices Janet turn to her own phone and tap away. “Don’t be an idiot,” Ginny says as they resolve whatever just passed between them in that loaded silence, her eyes beginning to sparkle again.

“Okay, okay, easy.” Mike holds up a hand in protest. “Enough abusing the man in a hospital gown.”

“Yeah, show some respect for the one pissing through a tube.” Ginny makes a face at Mike but takes his hand again. She ignores Janet’s scandalized groan.

Jackie sits back and listens as Mike and Ginny continue to banter. Her son is clearly uncomfortable; for all his good humor and brave front, she can see the pain that lines his brow and clenches his jaw. Ginny, too, still reveals an undercurrent of tension in every laugh, in the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. But the pair trying to be strong for one another. It’s touching, really, and it warms Jackie's heart to see her son so loved.

Ginny passes the time as they wait for the doctor regaling them with tales of the pranks she led the rookies in executing against the veteran players. Mike occasionally protests her version of events, interjecting his own stories, but for the most part watches his pitcher with a fond grin. Eventually, he begins to doze off, loopy from the pain meds, but not before he turns that familiar grin to Jackie.

“I really am glad you came, Mom,” Mike mumbles as he relaxes into the pillows.

Jackie runs her hand up and down his arm. “Me too, Mikey, me too.”

Suddenly feeling teary again, Jackie thanks Ginny when she passes her a box of tissues. She doesn’t notice that Janet has moved near her until a hand touches her shoulder.

“How about we go grab some coffee, Jackie?” Janet smiles a bit too brightly off her daughter’s suddenly wary look. Mike can’t seem to keep his eyes open, which is honestly a relief, because Jackie can just picture the deer-in-headlights look that the invitation would inspire in her son.

“Oh...uh…” Jackie forces a bright smile of her own in return. “Sure, that’d be lovely.”

“I’ll text you if the doctor comes,” Ginny calls after them as they leave.

 

* * *

 

The two women walk to the elevator in silence. Jackie begins to wonder if she shouldn’t beg off the coffee with an excuse, needing to call work or book a hotel or something, anything. She contemplates leaving altogether. Mike is likely to be out of it for the next few hours and then there would be all the consultations, possibly surgery. But she knows that’s not a real option. She won’t walk out on her son this time.

As they board the elevator, Janet looks to her with a smile that betrays her own nerves at the situation.

Thinking back to the scene in the hospital room, Jackie laughs, earning an _is-she-crazy_ look from Janet. “Coffee is a great idea,” she says as an explanation for her outburst. “We should probably get to know each other a little. If this is really it for Mike’s playing career, I’m going to guess those boundaries between our kids are going to change pretty quickly.”

With a chuckle that is more put upon than anything, Janet slumps against the elevator wall. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Then the elevator dings their arrival and the two women walk together to the cafeteria, on to whatever the next thing is.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
